


Once upon a time...

by BottomOfTheRiver



Series: Inkworld Appreciation Week Fics [2]
Category: Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Cannibalism, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Murder, Post Inkdeath, Post-Canon, Storytelling, The Robber Bridegroom - Grimm's Fairy Tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottomOfTheRiver/pseuds/BottomOfTheRiver
Summary: For Inkword appreciation week: day one: Books and Reading|Fluff.Several years after the events of Inkdeath, the Folchart family sit down to tell a story.I swear this is supposed to be fluffy but somehow I ended up retelling the Robber Bridegroom which is not the most fluff friendly of fairy tales, hence the murder and cannibalism tags. It was also supposed to be about books but it ended up being oral storytelling cause ya know. Baby Folchart is called Dante cause I read somewhere that that was his name and it just stuck.
Relationships: Mo Folchart/Resa Folchart
Series: Inkworld Appreciation Week Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768384
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Inkworld Appreciation Week 2020





	Once upon a time...

Dante had been raised surrounded by books, by virtue of both his father’s profession and the affection of his aunt and sister. They were, to him, infinitely precious and even at his young age he knew how carefully to handle them. Here, after all, all books were written by hand, a time consuming and difficult task that made them all the more special. There were no duplicates here (although Doria, with help from Mo and Meggie, was working on a printing press).

Perhaps for that very reason, the stories Dante had been told were not written on page. That was what he thought anyway, although his father told him otherwise. ‘It is too dangerous,’ he said. ‘There is magic in the written word and besides, the stories are told, stories from the world they had lived in long before they came here, could only be formed from memory.’ They had dared not go back and so the stories of Dante’s childhood remained half-formed from the depths of his family’s memories, and reconstructed by their tongues. Some had been written down, illuminated by Balbulus and bound by Mo... It was fairy tales more often than not, for fairy tales do not mind being moulded and reformed. They were born from the mind, and recorded with the tongue long before any ink had bound them. 

It was a fairy tale that was being told tonight, as the Folchart family gathered round the fire. Dante rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, she put his arm around him and held him close to her, gently stroking his dark hair. Dante loved his mother more than anyone, even Mo, for only his mother could fly in their dreams. The fire licked at the stone. Another reason why these tales were best told from memory, Elinor had told him. Fire is far too friendly with ink and paper. Dante wondered if she spoke from experience. 

It was Mo's turn to tell the tale tonight. It varied between Darius and Mo and Meggie, though sometimes Elinor or Resa would try but they could not bring the words alive the way the others could, although Elinor remembered the stories better. _“Once upon a time, in a far-off land...”_ began Mo, as he always did. “ _On the edge of a great forest, lived a miller who had a beautiful daughter, and, as all fathers were at that time, he desired that his daughter should be wed. Luck seemed to be on his side, for soon a wealthy man came upon the house. Seeing the daughter, the man wanted her for his bride, so he asked the miller for his daughter's hand.”_

_“The miller was so desperate for his daughter to wed, not only did he neglect to properly interview the man, he refused to listen to his daughter’s fears, for the man unnerved her and she disliked him. ‘You will marry this man' declared the miller, and left the daughter and her bridegroom to get to know one another. 'You must come visit me in the woods before we wed' said the bridegroom. ‘How will I know where you live?’ asked the girl. 'I will leave a trail of ashes for you to follow. Come see me this Sunday.’ The he kissed her, and left.”_

“I thought you said this was a gory one” sighed Dante. His mother laughed and kissed his head. “If you let your father finish maybe we’ll get to that part.” “Good.” Dante nodded for his father to continue. He had been begging for a gory story for years but Resa had always claimed he wasn’t old enough. It wasn’t until Meggie had pointed out that she had always liked the scary ones too, and that Mo always used to read them to her that Resa relented. 

_“When Sunday came around the girl found a trail of neatly arranged ashes starting from the gate of the mill and heading right into the dense forest. The girl did not want to enter the woods, but her father, who had overheard the conversation insisted she go. “If you do not go, he might think you rude and call off the wedding.” The daughter did as she was told, but, feeling uneasy, she stole some lentils from the store and stuffed them into her pockets, and when she set off, she left a trail of lentils behind her.”_

_“After several hours of walking the girl came upon her bridegrooms house. It stood alone, for even the trees seemed to shy against it. The girl knocked on the door and when no one answered, despite her fear, she slipped inside. Suddenly the girl heard a small voice that felt so completely out of place it made her jump._

_‘Beware, sweet bride, turn away and beware!’_  
_‘For you now stand in a murderer’s lair!’_

_The girl turned and to her surprise she saw that the voice was coming from a blue bird trapped in a cage hanging from the wall. The bird cried out again:_

_‘Beware, sweet bride, turn away and beware!’_  
_‘For you stand now in a murderer’s lair!’_

_But fearing her father’s wrath, the girl ignored the bird and searched the house for any sign of her bridegroom until at last she came to a cellar. An old woman sat in the centre, boiling a great kettle. ‘Pray tell, is this the house that belongs to my bridegroom” asked the girl and the old woman let out a cry of despair. ‘Alas it is, but the only husband you shall find here is Death, and this great pot for your wedding bed for your bridegroom is one of a gang of robbers. He is murderer and cannibal. He has lured you here to kill and eat you.’ The girl began to cry and taking pity on her the old woman spoke again. ‘Do exactly as I say and I will perhaps be able to save you. Hide behind this great cask, do not move or make a sound and when the robbers are asleep, I will sneak you out.’_

_No sooner had the girl done as the old woman said then loud voices and footsteps could be heard overhead. Worse was the violent screams of the robbers next victim. They plied the poor maid with wine, before cutting her into pieces and bringing her to the cellar to be stewed. But one of the robbers noticed a golden ring on the maid’s finger, and being unable to get it off, cut the the finger from the hand. The finger fell from the table and rolled behind the cask to where the girl was hiding, terrified. The robber made to go after it but the old woman stopped him. ‘Supper is ready’ she said. ‘You can find it tomorrow’ and the robbers all left up the stairs. The girl sighed in relief and when the old woman came to get her, she slipped the finger into her pocket out. “Do not come back here,’ whispered the old woman as the girl left the house. ‘I will not be able to save you again’._

_The girl followed her lentil trail back to her father’s mill and breathlessly told him what she had seen, but to her dismay her father did not brushed her aside. ‘You fell asleep and had a nightmare’ he said. The girl felt the finger in her pocket but sensing that not even this would change his mind, she nodded in agreement and went to bed._

“What a horrible man!” This time it was Elinor who had interrupted. “You see, this is what fathers were like back then. Arrogant, obnoxious-”  
“-I think Dante would like to here how the story ends” interrupted Meggie, conveniently cutting Elinor off before the swearing started. Dante nodded eagerly. 

‘ _The wedding day arrived, as did the bridegroom and the entire village, who the proud miller had invited to see his daughter wed. Fortunately, the girl was cunning and stowed the finger beneath her wedding dress and when they sat down to feast, she insisted that they go round and tell her a story. When everyone had had their turn, the bridegroom turned to the girl and said: ‘surely you have a tale to tell, my love’. The girl nodded and rose to her feet. “I had a dream the other night. A terrible dream but it makes a good story so I will tell you’ and so she told the party what had happened in the forest and all the while the bridegroom turned white as a sheet. When she reached the end, she smiled at her bridegroom and pulled out the severed finger. As she slowly unwrapped it, she turned back to the room and cried out. ‘But it was not a dream, and that is a murderer you see before you!” and she held the finger up for all to see. The bridegroom tried to flee but the townsfolk were to quick and caught him and his fellow robbers and they were all brought to justice-.”_

“-and the girl lived happily ever after,” finished Dante. Mo laughed. “I suppose she must have.”   
“Well” said Elinor, as Darius helped her to her feet. “I hope it’ll give you suitable nightmares”   
Dante grinned. “It was brilliant. You’ll have to write it down Mo, and get Balbulus to illustrate it and then I can help you bind it!”   
“Just so long as nobody reads it,” muttered Darius under his breath.   
“I can assure you I will do no such thing,” said Mo.   
Dante was not entirely sure what they were talking about now and being shut out of the conversation made him suddenly feel very tired. He stifled a yawn”

“I think it’s time to say goodnight,” said Resa and when all goodnights were said and his parents had tucked him into bed at least three times, Dante dreamt of a cage on a wall and bird set free.


End file.
